Belle of the Ball
by lovelydepths
Summary: They were already late, Nat didn't know what to wear. Luckily Clint was there to help her out. Idea I had to get out of my cranium. Feedback is always appreciated! Enjoy.


Clint aimlessly paced around the living room, staring at his watch. He was dressed and ready to go, but Natasha clearly wasn't.

Stark was throwing some black tie fundraiser, and the presence of every avenger was requested. It was a good cause, plus they could all use a night to relax and not have to worry about missions, or killing aliens.

They were already running late, and he was growing impatient.

He made his way back to the master bedroom, only to find it and the bathroom empty. He walked over to the closet door, which was shut tight.

"Nat? C'mon babe, we're already late."

She muttered something, muffled by the door that sounded like she was almost ready, dismissing him.

He turned the door handle, and let himself into the walk-in closet.

She was sitting on the small ottoman in the middle of the closet, only in a lacy bra and panties with a garter belt, which held only one stocking on her left leg up. Her makeup was already done, her long red locks artfully curled down her shoulders.

Pooled at her feet was a variety of dresses, different styles and colors. Each one of them discarded for a reason, broken zipper, wrong color, too this or too that. He shook his head at her.

"What?" she retorted, "I have nothing to wear."

He snickered at her, "There's gotta be something in here." He said, walking away from the doorway and into the closet.

He turned to the rack that held her wide array of nice dresses, it was already rifled through, half of them being littered on the floor. He sorted through the selection for a few moments, until he found one.

It was a forgotten dress, wrapped in plastic from a dry cleaners and left in the desolate back corner of their closet. She had only worn it once, on a mission in Venice, about four years ago, where they were posing as a wealthy couple. They ended up tailing a mark that was selling bioweapon prototypes. She ended up keeping the dress that was bought specifically for the gala they had to attend on that mission.

It was simple, but beautiful. Strapless and a deep plum color that Clint loved. It was silky and cut off right at the feet. It had a nude, metallic belt that brought in the waist, and draped the rest of the way down.

He pulled it off the rack and held it up, giving it a pointed look.

Her eyes went a little wide at the sight of it, "I forgot I even had that." She stood up and closed the distance between them.

She let him maneuver her around, and he eased the one stocking off her leg, unzipped the dress and helped her step into it. He brought it up her figure, and slowly drew the zipper up. She shivered when he pressed a little kiss to the back of her spine. Once the zipper was up all the way, he took its belt and slid it around her waist, bringing it in and letting it show her never-ending curves.

She looked breathtaking. The deep color of the dress a sharp contrast against her creamy skin. He especially loved the way it perfectly encased her beautiful, curvy frame. Plus it would be a nice distinction next to his fitted charcoal suit.

When he was finished dressing her, she nodded over at the top of the dresser in the corner of the room, and he picked up on what she wanted. He went over and picked up the necklace on top of it. It was the one he got her, and she wore nearly every day, a simple gold chain with a small arrow.

He brought it over to her, sliding it around her neck gently and clasping it shut. She sucked in another breath when he pressed another little kiss on her sensitive skin, this time on the front of her shoulder. It was on a scar she had there, one he gave her when they had first met. He put an arrow through her shoulder, but made up for it by giving her the life she now had, a second chance.

Lastly, he went over to the shelves, which housed her ridiculous overabundance of shoes. The one overly-girly stereotype she took part in. He picked out a pair of pale gold, sparkly pumps that matched her belt perfectly. He turned and scooted her back down onto the ottoman, kneeling and slipping both shoes onto her small feet, then helping her back up. The heels closed the height difference between them, him now only about an inch above her.

She walked over to the mirror in the other corner of the room, she pinned a loose piece of hair to he back of her head, and smiled at her reflection, overly-happy with his selections.

She made her way over to him, brought him to an embrace, and pressed his lips against hers. "What would I do without you?" she breathed against his chest.

He squeezed her tighter, "All I know is, you look gorgeous no matter what, baby." He led her out to the door, to the car that was waiting for them.

* * *

At the end of the night, her complete ensemble ended up scattered about the floor, along with his suit, in a trail that led to their bedroom.


End file.
